


There Will Come A Soldier

by DeltaX



Series: Soldier, Poet, King [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Mainly self indulgent, Sad with a Happy Ending, inspired by a song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeltaX/pseuds/DeltaX
Summary: A young boy is sent off to fight in a war he didn't know he had a part in. The best part is the sword they gave him. Strong. Shiny. Twice his size. Threatening to reveal a family secret he only ever thought was a myth.What could go wrong?Based off of the song "Soldier, Poet, King" by the Oh Hellos and loosely follows the events of the Battle of Culloden.
Series: Soldier, Poet, King [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970983





	There Will Come A Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn't have to come to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter. Let's hope this doesn't suck.

The sword of Evoneis.

A family heirloom passed down from generation to generation. 

It used to be his fathers and before that, it was his father's fathers. But now, as he dragged himself towards the battlefield, it lay heavy in his hands.

  
*********

  
Finn wasn't one for the dramatics, but being told you were fighting in a war? Yeah, that'll get you some kind of reaction.

It happened at exactly sun-high on a gloomy Wednesday. His father caught him as he was making his way out the door to meet his friends, and told him exactly the future he was hoping to avoid.

"Finn, we got a letter delivered to us this morning. It's about time you were presented with our family heirloom, anyway." Well, that's was not the entirety of his dad's words. But can you blame him for zoning out? He had planned to meet his friends at sun-high, not after it. He should've left his house ages ago, knowing full well the 15-minute walk it took to get to the place he was meant to meet them. Not that his father's voice helped keep his attention either, the monotone way he spoke even about something he was supposedly rather emotional about mixed with the way his face contorted in apathy sent shivers down his spine. His step-mother was faring worse in the emotion department in his opinion, based off of the almost dead look she sported when he risked a glance at her pale face.

Yes, he ran away, what else was he supposed to do? The sword was twice his size anyway, it's not like he could lift it even if he wanted to. Which he doesn't, ever. 

Of course, with his rather atrocious luck and quickly hastening pace, he ran straight into someone. That someone, being the one and only restaurant owner around this part of the empire. Vexing him basically meant you would starve if you didn't have your own farm. Finn was no gardener, and he was hated by the man because he called his lovely establishment a literal dump filled with the trashiest people. That's what Finn heard anyway, though he's pretty sure he only ever called it a tavern.

(Because it is, goddamnit! You sell alcohol in rubbish wood mugs that give you hundreds of tiny splinters just because you happened to brush over it and have the most uncomfortable stools for your customers! That's the definition of a tavern!)

Never the less, Finn tried to avoid interacting with the guy after that, too bad the world hates him. Maybe he should've grabbed that damn sword anyway, just to see if people would leave him alone if they saw him carrying it.

Yeah, no. You're right. He'd look like a toddler heightwise in comparison. 

Even if he did grab it and somehow could wield it correctly without toppling over from the weight, there was still no possibility of him fighting his way out of this one. Running couldn't be considered either because he was still tired from racing as far away from his house as he could. That left him with only one option. Talking. Hooray.

"H-hi, Mr Shmoldit..." Finn clasped his hands together in front of him, gripping tight enough that his knuckles bled white.

"You damn brat. Look at what you did!" Suddenly, Finn's boots were very fascinating. "That was a delivery for my best customer!" Being the best customer really didn't equate to much. The restaurant the man owned sat on the better half of the dregs, circumambient by granulated sheds and scungy townsfolk. 

"I'm so sorry, sir! I didn't mean to knock that out of your hands I-I was just running because, well..." He trailed off, digging his nails into his palms with enough force that normally it would break his skin if he weren't wearing his gloves. It was actually a good thing he stopped talking when he did. The whole village saw it as disgraceful to not want to fight for the empire, after all. If he were to be honest, Finn spaced out almost completely after that, it's not as if the man would listen anyway.

"You're always so much trouble! First, you dishonour your family by being such a failure with the blade, then you insult my establishment and now this! When will it stop? You need to learn to be more responsible!" Oh, look. A butterfly. "Are you even listening to me? People are dying right this second and all you can think to do is gaze at the prettiest bug you see." That caught his attention again.

"I-I uh. No, I'm listening. Just repeat what you said after the part about your best customer."

"...It's no wonder your parents are trying to get rid of you. You can't even respect people when they are talking to you." With that, the stocky tavern owner twisted on his heel and stormed away, leaving Finn with only the discarded remains of what most likely was a very fabulous (and very expensive) cake and the ever-growing circle of people surrounding him to see what all the yelling was about. Wait, what? 

Whispers rose among the crowd around him, too quiet for him to make out full sentences.

Finn knew what they were saying anyway.

"...is that Griffin's kid? What's he doing here, shouldn't he have left the town by now?..."

"...yelling at a poor kid. Damn Joseiphin does this all the time.."

He really didn't mind though. It happens every morning in this stupid town, and he and his father can take care of themselves.

"...we all knew their kids would be trouble as soon as Griffin married Daeva. Both were getting into all sorts of things when they were young..."

But bringing his mother into this? That's crossing the line. 

"What do you guys think yo-"

"Hey, leave Finn alone!" Good thing Finn got interrupted, thinking about it saying something to the other townspeople is a really bad idea. 

Finn turned to meet the other boy face to face, his firey hair falling in front of his sky blue eyes. "Hey, Blake. Sorry I didn't make it when we planned. Got caught up with something." Blake was the aggressive one in their little group, always picking fights with other teens. If the muscular brunette could, he'd probably challenge the King himself. 

"I can see that." Blake turned his head towards the crowd, his expression painting a rather violent picture of their futures if they didn't leave. Yeah, Finn was friends with an overprotective psycho. Don't judge him, Blake might murder you. 

"Calm down there, oak tree. Ever think we might want a shot at taking their heads?" Ah, there they are. Always late to the party. 

"For the last time, Simmi, it's Blake. Not bark. Spell it with me. B-L-A-K-E."

"Yeah whatever you say, sycamore." Simmi, while very intimidating, is possibly the sweetest ginger you would ever meet. Unless your name was Blake, of course. Simmi can be a little too much of a mother hen sometimes, but most of the group would be dead by now without him.

"Changing the type of tree doesn't make it different!"

"Guys seriously. This scrimmage is useless. By my computation- " 

"Oh shut up, Stell." Ah, then there's Stellan. Really all you need to know about the wiry boy is that he's the only one with more than two brain cells to rub together, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf. 

"What held you up, Finn? We were waiting for literally ever." 

"Blake please, it was only a few extra minutes. No need to start a fight over it." 

"Oh, you would say that wouldn't you Simmi? 

"Finn could snap you like a twig. It doesn't matter what I say, so there!"

"You child! And you call yourself the 'mother hen' of the group-"

"Stop squabbling like an old married couple you two. It's time to prepare, I imagine you all got that letter too?" Offended squawks rose up from Simmi and Blake at 'married couple'. 

"Yeah, along with the rest of the boys in town, no doubt." Finn rolled his eyes, huffing out his agreement. 

"Then let's get going. It's with great certainty I say we may only have a few days left here in town."

*********

Finn didn't believe in ghosts, it's was an incredibly idiotic presumption that there's an afterlife at best. He sometimes would hope that they were real - the possibility of seeing his real mother was tempting him again during more recent years to believe once more - but he knew it was a fruitless venture no matter which angle he thought about it from. 

However, as he listened to Simmi tell him of how he saw a rebel nobleman just over a few days before when the man had been reported dead almost a month ago, they're seeming more and more likely by the second. This only being reinforced by Stellan of all people saying he had experienced a similar occurrence just yesterday, followed by Blake vaguely mentioning an appearance of a dead soldier from their town knocking on his door.

He was going to miss this, no matter how far he runs the battle will only follow. Die in the battle for the chance to perpetuate his name or run from danger just to survive a few more hours? The indecision felt like it was trying to tear his insides in two. He didn't wish for his friends - the only people to make him feel appreciated since he moved to England - to have to go to war alone, but was he really prepared to die for his country? 

It's not worth any of us fighting. The Jacobites will only raise their muskets higher in response to a large adversary. The less that go to battle, the better.

"-inn, Finn!" His head shot up, they had been trying to talk to him for a while now, hadn't they? He was so rude, just look up damn it.

"Uh yeah, w-what's wrong?" Curse you, vocal cords, way to make it obvious he was nervous. 

"Are you feeling well? You seem to be a lot redder then usually, not to mention your uncharacteristic studdering. Do you need any assistance with getting home?" 

"I'm feeling fine, Stellan, and no it's okay I'll be able to get home just fine alone. Thanks for the offer anyway." It's not a complete lie, he will be fine by himself, he just won't be going home. Too much risk involved with heading back, if not his father then running into the baker while he's heading home from work. 

They didn't believe his lie, they never fall for his deceit. As he studies each of their expressions, the sentiment that none of them should go to war set even further in, congregating at the base of his ribs with a sharp stab of pain. 

_The English higher-ups are really cruel, the entirety of my home country seemed certain that was true and I believed it. So why not embrace the other belief they held onto? The Scots are the ones to trust. Wouldn't we all be safer in the highlands?_

"Finn, stop spacing out, it's hard to hold a conversation with you when you aren't paying enough attention to us to respond." Blake, the ever direct one in their group. He knew how to grab peoples attention immediately, it would be a good trait to have as a leader of some sort. 

_A rebel leader,_ his traitorous mind supplied. He was thinking of jumping the borders to get them all away from the fighting, not into more of it!

"If you're to going home, which, let's all be truthful, we knew you weren't going back to anyway, then I'm staying with you!" 

"That's a rather cheerful way to announce we're all going to freeze out here." Blake grinned at Simmi, leaning back onto the trunk of the roots he had sit in between when they had first arrived at their designated meeting place in the forest.

"Sorry if I'm being a little more then deaf, but did you say 'all of us'?" 

"Well, yeah. You're staying out here too, Stell." Simmi threw an arm around Stellan.

"Then it's settled. Anyone know how to make a fire or even a temporary shelter?"

"Well..."

"I can't say I do."

"I'm too stupid to know how to do that. We've been over this." Finn shrugged at Blakes concerned glance, it wasn't as if it was new information to anyone here.

"Horray. I hope you all like the idea of death."

_**(2096 words)** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit shorter then planned but I couldn't type anymore without it spilling over into what I was drafting up for the second chapter. Most chapters will be around 3000-4000 words each, with the exception of a few here and there that are going to be 2000-ish words or 5000 and over. 
> 
> (I was also rushing this chapter a bit to get it published. It has already been around three months since I started this series, something needed to be shown for it.)


End file.
